


In Full Bloom

by Vox (Akumeoi)



Category: No. 6 - All Media Types
Genre: (is the setting), (is the vibe), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ecologist Shion, Fantasy, Forest god Nezumi, Forests, Japan, M/M, Reunions, Studio Ghibli
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 19:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16816759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akumeoi/pseuds/Vox
Summary: Shion is an ecologist trying to restore the polluted Nezumiuchi forest to its former glory. It's been 10 years since he saw the forest god who lives there, but that doesn't stop him from paying a visit to the sacred forest heart every once in a while.





	In Full Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [No. 6 Zine](https://no6zine.tumblr.com/get). Reunion will come! Download the zine to see the illustrations which accompany this fic, as well as other fics with the same theme and tonnes of gorgeous art.

Shion parked the car in a dirt patch at the edge of the reforestation zone. Out here, the soil was still thin and rocky beneath his sensible hiking boots, though the landscape ahead was dotted with evenly-spaced saplings amid sparse, carefully maintained undergrowth. Grabbing his backpack of supplies from the back seat of the car, Shion headed down the unmapped trail which led into the forest.

Not that Shion had ever needed a sign to tell him how to reach his destination. Even if he weren’t the head of the No. 6 Forest Restoration Committee and a part-time ranger, Shion just… knew where he was with relation to the forest heart. It was a gift the forest had given him, to guide him to Nezumi’s home. On one memorable occasion, he had found his way to the heart at night in the fog after he’d gotten lost trying to rescue an endangered sika deer. 

As he walked, Shion took note of the changes that had occurred in the forest since last he had walked this trail. This year’s crop of trees were growing nicely, with no obvious signs of pest activity. Shion smiled to himself as he passed.

Twenty years ago, this land, which lay between the Nezumiuchi forest and the city of No. 6, had been a total desert wasteland, stripped and tainted by logging, monocrop farming, and in some places the dumping of waste chemicals produced by the factories in the industrial sector of the city. Back then, Shion had been just a naïve child who had met the forest god in a public park. 

Shion remembered the first time he had come here, that precious seedling in its pot held tightly in his arms. The god could not survive in the park, cut off from his forest by the wall of No. 6 – bringing him home had been his only hope. The forest had been much smaller then, but darker and more unfamiliar, the strange noises from among the trees unsettling Shion but not as much as the fear that the transplant would be unsuccessful, that the god wouldn’t survive the journey. 

Nezumi _had_ survived, but just returning to his heartland hadn’t been enough. The last time Shion had seen the forest god, he had been sickly, hurt, angry, and savage like a wild dog, his tongue sharp as a knife and his silver eyes accusing. He wore a muddy brown cloak over a once-fine robe, tattered in scraps like the last leaves clinging to bare branches. His hair was lank and greasy, cut into uneven shoulder-length chunks. Every inch of him screamed the ruination that the forest was suffering. When Shion had cried in sorrow and anger for him, Nezumi had only scorned his tears. And then he had faded away into the trees, saying he was done living among humans. Shion had not seen him since. 

That was why Shion had become an ecologist, why he had devoted ten years of his life to restoring this forest to its former glory. Even if the spirit of the forest would never manifest again, the forest would be a living, breathing monument to him, and a reminder to the once-arrogant city of the consequences of its actions. 

Thinking that, Shion shook his head, trying to cast away the shadows of the past. He loved the forest in its current state, the way it now thrummed and sang with life. It was his job to make sure that the forest was flourishing, and he took his job very seriously. And it didn’t pay to think about what he had lost, not when the living forest clamoured for his full attention and care.

As he walked, the undergrowth thickened, the trees grew taller, beech, oak, cypress, and fir casting shadows over his shoulders, then covering his whole body in their warm green shade. Shion’s steps quickened now, his focus sharpening. He already knew what this part of the forest looked like – this was old growth, untouched by the city of No. 6.  
At last he reached the heart of the forest, the clearing where the shrine to the forest god stood.

In the centre of the clearing was a great cypress tree with a fat shimenawa rope tied around its gnarled trunk. Ringing the outside of the clearing were seven stone lanterns, their decorative peaks worn down to pitted nubs, but clean and free of moss. The area between the lanterns and the cypress was cleared of other trees, save for one sapling, around 20 years old, which was planted close to the base of the cypress but somehow flourished in its shade. Shion smiled when he saw it. 

Nezumi had never _lived_ at the shrine, though the two trees which rooted him to the earth did. The entire forest was a manifestation of his being. But the shrine had been built specifically for Nezumi, and Shion wanted him to know that he was overseeing this reforestation not just out of some sense of ecological duty, but for him, as a gift.

Set against the base of the cypress was an irregular grey boulder around waist-high, with a roughly flat top. Shion used this rock as a sort of altar. He was no priest, but he liked to curate this clearing, pray, and leave offerings at the altar. It made him feel closer to the forest. Putting his backpack down beside the altar, Shion took out a bundle of sakaki leaves, and a cardboard tube carefully encircling a bunch of purple _G. fujisanensis_ and white _Calanthe discolor_ orchids he had collected from the forest restoration nursery earlier that morning. 

The flowers were not traditional, but Shion liked to show Nezumi the things that he was growing for him. Approaching the altar, Shion bowed to the cypress tree, then started arranging his gifts. Just then, he heard a friendly chirp, and saw a small _Apodemus speciosus_ – the greater fieldmouse – watching him from beside the boulder. This species was usually nocturnal, but they somehow always seemed to appear whenever Shion was at the shrine. He had come to think of the mice as Nezumi’s messengers. Possibly they were the only physical manifestation remaining to him now. Shion gave the little mouse a fond smile and began speaking to it conversationally as he worked.

“Do you like these?” he said. “We just started growing orchids this year. They’re beautiful, aren’t they? Do you think Nezumi will like them?”

“You may be a great ecologist, but your flower arranging skills are awful.”

At the sound of the familiar voice, low and filled with suppressed amusement, Shion instantly whirled, dropping the flowers into a scattered mess on the altar. Standing at the edge of the clearing, one hand upraised against a lantern, stood a man with piercing grey eyes, their colour soft and shimmering like silver moon-trails on the river.

Shion gasped, falling to his knees in shock. 

“Nezumi,” he gasped. “It’s you. Oh, it’s you.”

Ten years since he’d last seen him, and now Nezumi was resplendent. Gone was the muddy brown coat. His robe had been restored with a pattern of intertwined leaves embroidered in emerald thread that shimmered as if the cloth itself were alive, while the flowing kimono beneath was woven from a simple, pale green linen. Long, glossy black hair rippled down his back, crowned with a wreath of living flowers in vibrant blues and whites, their petals cascading down his back.

Joy and relief swept through Shion’s body in an overwhelming tide as he drank in every detail. The forest was alive, and here was its beating heart. _Nezumi is here, Nezumi, Nezumi._

Shion couldn’t help it – he abruptly started to cry, great sobbing tears that made his shoulders shake. Nezumi’s face twisted with annoyance. 

“Will you _please_ stop? I forgot how much of a child you were,” Nezumi said in irritation, scowling. Shion didn’t even care. Nezumi could insult him as much as he wanted as long as it meant Shion got to see him and hear his voice. 

“I thought you were gone forever,” Shion managed to get out through his sobs. “I thought I would never see you again.”

Nezumi sighed. “At least get up. You shouldn’t kneel to anyone,” he said, folding his arms. Shion only shook his head, making Nezumi throw his hands in the air in exaggerated irritation. 

To Shion’s shock, Nezumi started walking towards him. Fearing that Nezumi was angry, Shion made a half-hearted attempt to stand, but quickly gave up as his legs gave out beneath him. Just then, Nezumi caught him under the arms and raised him to his feet, supporting him. After a moment, he spoke, his voice finally tempered into gentleness.  
“Shion…” he murmured in Shion’s ear. “Did I really hurt you that much? I thought you would be fine.”

“I _am_ fine… now that you’re here,” Shion whispered, and sniffed, his sobs starting to die down now that Nezumi’s arms were around him. His body was overflowing with emotions he didn’t know how to contain. Nezumi, here, restored – his work hadn’t been for nothing. It wasn’t a monument he had been building, but a home. Everything had been worth it. 

Gently, Nezumi deposited Shion on the altar so that he was sitting on it like a bench, crushing the orchids and the sakaki. Shion tried to wriggle off the altar, but Nezumi put a hand up to his chest. 

“Stay,” he said firmly, as if commanding a small child, then let his hand drop. A moment of quiet. Then, in a much softer tone, “Thank you.”

Shion knew that Nezumi wasn’t just thanking him for staying on the rock. He also had a feeling that this reunion wasn’t going exactly how Nezumi had hoped it would, but he didn’t say anything, only wiped his face with the back of his hand. 

“Will you be leaving again?” Shion asked timidly. Now that he knew Nezumi was safe and well, he felt like he could continue his forest preservation work with a lighter heart. But he couldn’t help but hope – quietly, desperately hope – that Nezumi wouldn’t disappear into himself again.

“No,” Nezumi said simply, and Shion’s heart leapt. “And you should stay too.”

“What do you mean?” Shion asked, confused. 

“I mean… you should live here in my forest. With me,” Nezumi clarified. He raised his eyebrows as Shion just looked at him in shock. “This is not an offer I would extend to anyone else.”

“I want to,” Shion said reflexively. “But Nezumi. It’s been ten years. We don’t really know each other anymore.”

Nezumi studied Shion with narrowed grey eyes. But then, his mouth curled into a small smile. He took Shion’s hand and pressed it flat against his chest. 

“What can you feel?”

Shion felt the rich brocade of Nezumi’s robe, the flat planes of his chest beneath, the warmth from his body. That was where the similarity to a human chest ended. Nezumi had only the faint, slow echo of what could be a heartbeat, ancient like the pulse of sap through the veins of a tree. A kind of energy swirled around him, a tight and thrumming tension like the beating of hummingbird wings. His chest did not rise and fall underneath Shion’s hand, but the breeze seem to naturally flow around him, or even come from within like a long, cool breath. 

“The forest,” he answered, feeling it to be the truest possible answer.

“That’s right. You feel that I’m alive,” Nezumi said, releasing Shion’s hand. “Standing in front of you. Right here, right now. _Because_ of you.”

For some unknown reason, when he heard Nezumi’s words, Shion felt his heart beat faster and his blood stir with life. 

“You’re right,” he said, meeting Nezumi’s eyes. “That’s all I need to know right now.”

“If you decide you like it here, you can stay as long as you want. Eternity, even,” Nezumi said seriously. “If you drink the water from the rain, if you eat the fruit of my forest and nothing but that for the rest of your life, you will become immortal… like me.”

As he spoke, the aura around him seemed to increase, the grey of his eyes becoming overwhelmingly intense. Panicking slightly, Shion shot to his feet. “Wait a minute, can I still leave?” He paused. “Can my mom come visit me?”

Nezumi snorted with laughter. “Of course you can leave. It won’t happen overnight, Shion,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes. He chuckled for a moment more, and Shion couldn’t help but smile in return. Then Nezumi calmed, and his eyes locked with Shion’s again, still intense, but peaceful.

Shion thought about it. To live among the forest he loved and was helping restore, with Nezumi at his side…

“Yes,” he said after a moment, helplessly. “Yes.”

Nezumi smiled, and then his hands were on Shion again, cupping his chin, tilting Shion’s face towards him into a kiss that tasted like honey. A small fieldmouse scampered away and bees hummed amid the trees, heralding the promise of new growth, of a life in full bloom.

**Author's Note:**

> I really put my heart and soul into the No. 6 Zine, and I did a lot of research for this fic. I studied [forest restoration in Brazil](http://regua.org/) and the types of trees in Japan. Hopefully it was worth it!
> 
> Comments always welcome!


End file.
